


Planes, of the Paper Kind

by Blithe_Novelties



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-05
Updated: 2012-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 17:31:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blithe_Novelties/pseuds/Blithe_Novelties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And before he knew it, his childhood had slipped away from his fingers, the colorful days fading, yellowing around the edges, just the paper planes he used to make. Post WWII AU. Human names used.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Planes, of the Paper Kind

**Author's Note:**

> A Post-WWII AU Drabble, in which Alfred reflects on parts of his childhood. Written Februrary 5, 2012.
> 
> Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya

He'd lain on his back for hours now, watching the clouds pass by lazily, as he'd done for many a summer before. It was so easy to get lost in the memories that he had often forgotten the past years and believed he was a child once more. The blonde could almost hear his mother calling him in for dinner and smell the scent of her perfume mingling with the delicious odor of home cooking. 

After dinner, he, his brother, and their parents gathered in the living room; Alfred and Matthew listened to their favorite program, while Mother knitted scarves and mittens for the winter and Father smoked his pipe, only occasionally looking up from his paper. Bed time followed (though the bespectacled blonde often snuck out of bed to spy on his parents from between the stair railing) and the next day followed the same pattern.

Alfred remembered that he liked making paper planes as a child, his whole room littered with them; at the time, he wanted nothing more than to grow up and become a pilot.

Life back then had been so simple and carefree, like one big game.

When Alfred was nineteen, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, causing his country to enter the war in Europe. He'd been drafted. For the first year, he was terrified, and while he'd gotten used to the homesickness and fighting, nothing would ever make him forget the horrors he'd seen overseas during it all. Even now, the past haunted him in his sleep; those memories stronger than those of his childhood.

He'd returned home, unlike the thousands of other who would never come back, to find himself no longer a child believing that life had fairy-tale endings, but to a man changed by war, a man who understood that magic simply didn't exist; he yearned for it to come back, longed to be a kid again without any idea that cruelty existed in the worldwhen war was a word he hadn't known.

His childhood had slipped between his fingers, the colorful days of yesteryear fading, yellowing around the edgesjust like the paper planes he used to make.


End file.
